


Love so fragile

by Builder



Series: Canon ships and all that jazz [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Backstory, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mission Fic, Motion Sickness, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: Once the secrets start coming, there's no stopping them.Or, how Nat found out about Clint's predisposition to motion sickness.  And his fiancee.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a Marvel carsickness fic (Mountain roads) a couple weeks ago, and of course someone asked now Nat came to know about Clint's little problem...
> 
> Find me on tumblr @builder051

It’s their second mission together, and things are starting to go to shit.  The person they’re supposed to be tailing has set an agent to tail them, and their cover’s about two minutes from being blown.  Nat inserts her hand forcibly into Clint’s and pulls him around the corner, pretending to laugh giddily as she shoots a glance over her shoulder.

“Two men in trench coats with concealed weapons,” she hisses between her teeth.  “We need to get out of here.”

“Roger,” Clint whispers, pressing a closed-lipped kiss to Nat’s cheek.

There’s a moped parked on the curb a few paces down.  It’s still running, probably waiting for some delivery person to pop out of the café and jet off.  “Come on,” Nat says, nodding at the vehicle.  “This’ll be faster.”

“No, let’s stay on foot.”  Clint stays staunchly on the sidewalk.

“Are you crazy?  Those guys are gonna start shooting at us any second.”  Nat steps up to the bike and sizes it up, then throws one leg over the seat.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Then I’m leaving you here.”  Nat releases the brake and rolls a few feet.  “It doesn’t matter if you don’t know how.  Just hop on and hold on.”

“Nat…”  Clint shakes his head frantically.

“What’s wrong with you?  Come  _on_!”

The two trench coats round the corner.  They’re out of time.

“Fine,” Clint spits.  He hops up behind Nat and wraps his arms around her waist.  “But you’re gonna regret it.”

“Don’t care,” Nat says.  “We gotta go.”  She steers them into the middle of the street and pushes the bike to its top speed.  She makes several quick turns down alleys and sidestreets, and within ten minutes they’re on their way out of town.  The paved street crumbles into packed dirt as they head out into the vast expanse of French countryside.

“I think we lost them,” Nat murmurs, peering in the moped’s rear-view mirrors.  No one seems to be following them now, or if they are, they’re still lost between buildings in the town square.  “Or at least we have a good head start.”

Nat expects Clint to say something like  _good job_ , or at least confirm he’s heard her.  She wonders if his reply is lost in the wind nose whipping past her ears, so she turns her head to glance at him slouched behind her.  She doesn’t expect to see him ashen-faced and tight-lipped, staring at the pattern on Nat’s blouse and determinedly not taking in the scenery.

“What’s wrong?” Nat asks.

“Keep your eyes on the fucking road,” Clint groans.  Then he swallows heavily.  “And can we please pull over?”

Nat factors in their speed and complicated route against how bad her partner looks, and she decides a pit stop is in order.  Nat slows the bike to a crawl and pulls off the road in a cloud of dust.  It’s not a moment too soon; she can feel Clint’s stomach contracting against her back.  He doesn’t even have time to disembark before he heaves into the dirt.

Nat can’t move; Clint still has one arm hooked around her waist as he leans off the bike.  She reaches around to awkwardly pat his shoulder.  “Ok,” Nat murmurs.  “Um.  You ok?”

“Fucking spectacular…” Clint spits.

“They didn’t hit you with a tranq or something, did they?”

“I…no…”  Clint gags again.  “I just…I told you you were gonna regret it, didn’t I?”

“Huh.”  Nat considers.  “This is just, like, motion sickness?”  She almost laughs.

Clint spits.

“You have it this bad and you made it through field training?”

“Yeah,” Clint says, a little defensively.  “It’s only this bad if I sit in the back.”

“Still, they didn’t think to brief me on it?” Nat asks.  “I’m you partner.  I thought I was supposed to know everything.”

“Everything in line with the mission,” Clint corrects, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.  “This wasn’t exactly part of the plan.”

Nat shrugs.  “I guess not.”  She listens to Clint breathe raggedly for a moment.  “You got any other secrets?” she asks.

“I’m engaged.”

“…you’re kidding.”  Nat shakes her head.  “Really?”

“Yeah, really.  So all the, uh, PDAs are just for show.”

“Duly noted.”

“Yeah…”  Clint centers himself on the moped again and loosens his grip on Nat.  “So.  You got any secrets I need to know?”

Nat looks straight ahead at the long road ahead of them.  “Nope,” she says.  “Not a one.”


	2. Vector me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat steals a car; Clint can't deal.

Nat finishes hotwiring the sports car just as the gun-wielding man turns the corner and fires a couple shots toward them.  Nat ducks.  “Hop in,” she says to Clint, throwing the door open and jumping into the driver’s seat.  

Clint obliges and barely gets the door slammed shut before Nat guns it and starts down the narrow street, tires squealing.  

“He just kicked a dude off a motorcycle.  He’s on our tail,” Clint says, peering through the back windshield. “We gotta shake him.”

“Can do,” Nat says.  “Hold on tight.”  She increases her speed and turns down a side street.  Nat shifts in her seat to free her iPhone from her back pocket.  She tosses it to Clint.  “Vector me,” she says.

“Huh?”  Clint catches the device and looks blankly at her.

“Sometimes Google Maps is our best resource.”

Clint looks back at the man pursuing them.  Another shot rings out, and the back windshield cracks as it catches a bullet.

“This is not going to end well.”  Clint shakes his head as he powers on the device.  “But I guess it’s our only choice.”

“I’m gonna get us out of here,” Nat says.  “Don’t worry.”

“Oh, that’s not what I’m worried about,” Clint chuckles.  He opens the app for Google Maps and pulls up satellite view.   “I know you’re gonna drive like a madwoman and probably save our lives.”  He squints at the small buildings on the display.  “There are some abandoned warehouses ten miles or so out of town.  Probably a good place to hide a fucking yellow sports car.”

“Hey, don’t blame me.  There wasn’t a lot of choice,” Nat snipes. 

“Not blaming…”  Clint takes a slow breath and swallows, ignoring the nausea beginning to rise to his chest.  He closes his eyes for a moment, hoping to regain control.

“Hey, do I turn here?”  

Clint opens his eyes in time to see them barreling toward a fork in the road.  He looks down at the map in his hand, but he can barely concentrate as the sick feeling returns with a vengeance.  “Um,” he hesitates.  “Yeah.  Yeah, turn here.” 

Nat does, and Clint clutches the handle on the door to keep from rocking in his seat.  He tastes bile, and swallows the urge to gag.

“Ok,” Nat murmurs.  “See?  Clean getaway.”

“Good,” Clint gasps.  “‘Cause we’re probably gonna need to pull over.”


	3. Trouble on my right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taken captive in the back of a moving vehicle is less than the ideal situation.

When Clint comes to, the floor is vibrating under his cheek.  “Ugh,” he groans, rolling onto his back and scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Yeah, that’s about right,” Nat’s voice mutters.

Clint pushes himself up so he can see her.  A grin spreads across his face before he puts together the whole of the scene.  

“Hey,” Clint says.  “You’re ok.”

Nat shrugs.  “I guess.  About the same as you.”

“Which is…?”  Clint’s still making sense of the disorientation crashing around the inside of his skull.

“Sleepy.  Headachy.”  Nat crosses her arms.  “Pissed off.”

“Yeah…” Clint agrees.  He looks around, trying to take in the unfamiliar surroundings.  They’re in a greyish metal box, it seems.  And the whole thing is rumbling slightly.  Clint can’t remember exactly what the mission was, but this certainly isn’t part of it.  A feeling of uneasiness grows in the pit of his stomach.  “Where are we?”

“Hard to say,” Nat says.  “A storage container, maybe?  Or the back of a semi?”  She shakes her head.  “I didn’t want to try anything while you were still out.  And it might be better to wait till we stop moving.”

The missing pieces clunk together in Clint’s hazy brain.  He recognizes the motion now.  Uncomfortable memories of sitting in the back row of the school bus send bitterness seeping up his throat.  “Fuck,” he mutters.  

“I know,” Nat sighs.  “It’s not ideal.”

“Right.”  Clint drags his knees up to his chest and lowers his head.  “Fucking spectacular.”

“Try to stay calm.”  Nat crawls over and becomes a comforting presence beside his shoulder.  “It’s ok.”

“No, it’s not,” Clint hisses through gritted teeth.  “I just woke up from being drugged.  I don’t know where we are except that it’s in the back of a moving vehicle.  The mission’s gone to shit.”  He shakes his head and swallows down rising nausea.  “And I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“Just try to stay calm, “ Nat whispers.  “It’s not gonna last forever.  I still have my blaster.”  She rolls up her sleeve to show him the small device strapped to her wrist.

“Nat…” Clint drags in a deep breath, praying he can regain control over his stomach.  Bile burns his throat, and saliva pools around his back teeth.  “Shut up.”

“Ok, ok,” she says, sitting back on her heels to give him some space.  “But I’m here to help, alright?  That’s part of the partnership.”

“That’s—”  Clint gags on the word and claps his hand over his mouth.  It doesn’t do any good, though, and vomit spills down the front of his shirt.  “Shit.”

Nat makes a sympathetic hum and pats him on the back.  

Clint heaves again.  The taste makes his eyes water.  He struggles to catch his breath, and he swipes frantically at his streaming eyes and nose.  It doesn’t do much good.  He retches a third time, but nothing more comes up.  

“Geez,” Clint hiccups.  “This is fucking great.”

“It sucks,” Nat agrees.  “But relax, ok?  We’re gonna get out of this.”

“You do realize that now that I’ve started—” Clint pauses to breathe through a dry heave, “I’m not gonna stop.”

“Yeah.”  Nat pauses.  “But do you realize that I don’t really care?”

Clint gives her a sideways look before another hiccup surfaces and breaks his concentration.

“You know what I mean,” Nat says with a grin.

“Yup,” Clint sighs.  “Unfortunately I do.”  But he grins back.

 

 


End file.
